Throw Fire at the Sun
by Alithea
Summary: After EW. Middie hates her life, but is given the opportunity to make her dream come true.


**Title: Throw Fire at the Sun  
>Rated: PG-13<br>Characters are not mine. I am just borrowing.**

Middie Une failed in many ways to make her life better. She tried, and then found the best way to give up. She sat in her small apartment, read romance novels, and ate healthy instant dinners. It was not the life she wanted. It was not the life she thought she would have. And that's where the problem was, because Middie Une just never expected to survive any of the war. She expected to be in a grave, and just couldn't find a way to live her life like she wasn't.

When she saw the commercial for the circus she felt her stomach lurch uncomfortably. There was the boy with no name all grown up. There was the boy with a life that wasn't killing, wasn't war. She gritted her teeth and turned off the television, took a deep breath, and meandered into the local bar.

She didn't like the place. It was old and decaying. The people in it were in just as bad a shape as she was, or worse (and she did so crave the chance to comfort those people, because it made her feel better).

She sat down and ordered a shot of tequila. It wasn't top shelf. She couldn't afford anything considered top shelf. She prided herself on being able to consume vodka sold in a plastic bottle, and knock off Jaggermeister.

A song came on and she started to cry, which was something she did at that bar often. She could blame the alcohol instead of her sobering depression and lack of self esteem. And through her tears she overheard something that she wasn't meant to hear. It took her back to her days in the war buying and selling information to whatever side seemed to be paying the best. It made her smile, and hate herself just a little more. It was something she was so good at, betrayal and denial. She wondered if it was the answer she was looking for.

* * *

><p>It took longer than she expected to be accepted by the group. Eventually they trusted her with small missions to deliver messages, and soon she had all the information she needed to contact the organization they were trying to destroy.<p>

The Preventer offices were full and plush. She sat in a chair and made her offer to the young man at the desk. He never smiled, but he did sort of smirk at her last name. She never liked that.

"How much?" He asked politely.

"Enough to to get by," she replied.

"I'll have to run this by my superior, but..." He trailed off and glanced her over. "It shouldn't be a problem."

She smiled and left the office. She had completed her first advanced mission from the group she had joined. She thought of how to make the double agent bit work for her, and decided that it didn't matter how it worked out.

* * *

><p>Nichol had a bad feeling about the girl. His eye for traitors never went away and he found that the Preventers kept him around for that very talent. He could root them out and not feel remorse. The girl was a traitor, or a double agent. Though in his book one might as well have equaled the other. She didn't have a side, and sides were important.<p>

She was flirting with some guy inside the coffee shop, and Nichol struggled to find one genuine quality about her. His phone rang and he scowled.

"Don't you trust me," he asked the caller.

"I don't trust her," was the flat reply.

"Barton, you don't have to warn me. I figured her out right away."

"The way you figured me out?"

Nichol huffed. "Yeah, sort of like that."

"She's better at this game than you think she is." There was a long pause, "And if she's not being careful it means only one thing."

"What?"

Trowa sighed. "Think of that one mission with the princess."

The line went dead and Nichol cursed under his breath. The girl trotted happily over to the passenger side of the car and got in.

"So?" She asked with a smile.

"Middie..." He looked her over and then said, "Where's my coffee?"

* * *

><p>"What the hell was that?" Nichol shouted once they were in the hotel room.<p>

"I-"

"You want to killed?"

Middie flinched at the sound of his voice and had no answer for him.

He stared her down and then went to his luggage and pulled out a gun. He pointed it at her and watched her lack of fear. He nodded and tossed it over onto the bed.

"Do it yourself then." He said. "I don't want to die. I'm not like you. I like the crappy life I live. If all this is... If all this contacting the Preventers is to you then you need to get out of here."

Middie walked over to the bed and picked the gun up, and then she put it down. She left the room as Nichol commanded.

* * *

><p>The small little rebellion group she joined lauded her for her courage when she returned to them. She gave them a story about how she was found out, but that their plan was still good to go. Everything was in place, and for once she was actually telling the truth. It was all in place when she left. Nichol would probably figure it all out, but if they worked fast they could pull some of it off.<p>

She was left orders to remain behind.

She watched all their young faces leave the meeting place, and when they were all gone she picked up her things and left. She got on a train and got off at the last stop. She bled her savings dry and ran to the one place she always felt safe. She went back home.

There was nothing left of the small cottage she had grown up in. It was all rotting and overgrown. It was ruined, and she stared at the crumbling structure with resentment, as if it had betrayed her.

She walked slowly towards the little village and hoped there was an inn she could stay in. As she entered she noticed the cars. They were very nice, and most likely from the manor house that still existed. She kept walking forward even when she realized who the cars belonged to. And then she was stopped by a familiar voice.

"You don't get to talk to her," Nichol said and grabbed her shoulder.

"I wasn't," Middie said.

"I'm arresting you," he said softly. "Your little plan went flawlessly, and they just about all died."

Middie grinned. "Did they?"

"Yes."

"You should shoot me now, Nichol."

"No."

Middie nodded and took a deep breath. "You'll wish you had later."

Nichol shook his head. "No. That's your wish. I won't even remember you."

End.


End file.
